Chapter 80: Surging Current

A roar erupted.

The county magistrate's official seal flew from the yamen, stamping its nine-fold seal script in vermilion ink onto the faces of the patrol archers.

Ansai's pig-butcher hoisted the courtroom desk and smashed that symbol of imperial authority in Fushi County into the crowd.

This official might was made of solid wood, weighing eighty jin — nothing could stop it.

It crashed into the mass of bodies, snapping bones and tearing sinew.

Behind the courtroom desk, one figure after another burst forth, blades in hand.

Liu Chengzong fought to be first, springing up from the courtroom desk, then landing heavily on a shield and leaping into the crowd, driving the shield-bearing bailiff to his knees with the impact.

Like a cannonball, he cleared the bailiff line and crashed down beside the patrol archers in the rear, kicking one over in passing.

In these times, patrol archers were fierce too.

The man on his left had no time to draw his blade and swung at him with bow in hand; the one on his right simply stabbed at him with an arrow.

Weighing two evils, Liu Chengzong chose to take the bow-strike, slashed down the one with the arrow, then turned back and cut down the bowman, man and bow together.

But the enemies around him were simply too many — suddenly he sensed a sound of something tearing through the air behind his ear, yet dared not turn to look.

He hastily wrapped his blade around his head to parry the weapon from behind — how could he have known it was a chain with no regard for martial honor.

And now it got worse: the goose-wing saber failed to wrap the chain securely, and the chain's prismatic iron head conveniently smashed open the skull of the bowman he had kicked over earlier, who had just gotten back to his feet.

Liu Chengzong had not seen such an excellent teammate in years; what was even more perfect was that the moment this man's chain whipped a teammate to death, he dropped the chain and fled at a run.

This made things comfortable for him.

A bailiff's chain — he had trained with one too!

Swinging his blade to keep the patrolmen and bailiffs at a distance, Liu Chengzong held the chain in one hand and his saber in the other, whirling the chain to guard one flank as he worked with his goose-wing saber to quickly leap clear of the encirclement.

When the patrolmen and bailiffs he had been tying down turned back around, the battle situation was no longer as easy as it had been moments before.

The prisoners were charging out in a frenzy, and with Gao Xian, Guo Zhashi, and the others as vanguard, the two sides were actually fighting… with some flair?

The prisoners' weapons were far too poor — three or five of them could barely pin down a single bailiff, and some were even smacking people in the face with the court's wooden gavel.

Liu Chengzong had no choice but to raise his blade once more and charge back into the fray.

This time it no longer felt like breaking a battle line — much easier; many bailiffs were tied down by prisoners and could not spare him any attention.

Of the remaining few, if they focused on Gao Xian they could not deal with him, and if they dragged him down there was no one to handle Gao Xian.

This allowed him to move like a ghost through the crowd — slashing a leg here, slicing a groin there, tripping one man down, drawing his blade to finish another.

In the blink of an eye, the surviving bailiffs dared fight no longer and scrambled by any means to flee.

Liu Chengzong did not pursue; he caught his breath for a moment and saw Chengyun emerging from a shop across the street.

It was deeply uncanny.

Everyone else was fighting for their lives, yet Chengyun alone looked as though nothing had happened — not a speck of dust on him, and in his hand he even held a stewed lamb hoof, gnawing as he walked.

"You — where were you just now?"

"Second Uncle, it's truly good that you're unharmed." Liu Chengyun put away the lamb hoof with great respect and first paid his greetings to Liu Xiangyu.

Only then did he point back at the shop he had come from, his face the picture of innocence: "I was just sitting in there. Originally Brother Cao told me to bring you word, but then a group of bailiffs suddenly showed up.

I don't know martial arts, and I didn't dare go over. The shop had food, and the shopkeeper had run off, so I just sat there and had a meal."

His foolish younger brother wore an expression of complete matter-of-factness. Liu Chengzong said, exasperated: "You call that not daring? The shopkeeper knew to run — you didn't. Your nerve is far too great!"

Chengyun rolled his eyes and did not take up the remark.

The well-fed man knows not the hunger of the starving.

You with your whole body of martial skill — a blade in hand and seven or eight strong men cannot get near you; you're one step short of cutting down the entire field single-handed.

Not only do you dare to run, you're even itching to leap over and join the fight.

Chengyun looked at his own slight frame — even scaring a waiter left his heart pounding with anxiety, afraid the young waiter might grab a club and beat him in return, leaving him drenched in cold sweat afterward.

Several dozen bailiffs and militia — was that not a joke?

Even if he wanted to run, his two legs would have to support him — his legs had turned to noodles, and he was supposed to run? Run, my ass.

Besides, he had been sitting perfectly still in the shop, and no one had paid him any attention.

If he had suddenly stood up and bolted outside before the bailiffs had even started fighting — wouldn't that have been asking to be caught?

Once the bailiffs started fighting in the back, the ground was covered in corpses and blood, with guns firing and arrows flying — that made him even less daring to run.

Even now, if he had not rested for a while, Chengyun could not even walk straight crossing the street.

"Brother, Brother Cao told me to tell you — he saw Battalion Commander Zhang. He's not in the city; he's sitting outside the south gate with his troops."

"Sitting — what do you mean, sitting?"

"Just sitting. About four li away — out of cannon range, anyway. Just sitting there with his troops."

Chengyun did not know how else to describe it, so he said: "I don't think we can leave by the south gate. We'll have to go out the north gate. I reckon he wants to seize the grain."

"Seize the grain? He wants my grain, but I want his life. What about She Tatian?"

Liu Chengzong had originally planned to first exit through the north gate and link up with his elder brother, who was lying in ambush outside the city, then have Li Wanqing lead the famine refugees out the south gate as a feint.

Ideally, they could trap Zhang Xiong on the drawbridge with no way to run.

But as Liu Chengyun pointed southward and his gaze followed, his thinking shifted along with it.

"We'll do as you say — leave by the north gate, circle around, and then strike Zhang Xiong."

The famine refugees had already suffered enough; they could not be used as bait again.

At the far end of his gaze, a surging tide of famine refugees had seized the streets of Yan'an Prefecture.

At every eave and street corner, some stood on rooftops, others at the turns, shouting to point the way.

No one knew where this road led, and no one cared where this road led.

People only knew that after the prefectural guard posts had been taken and the gate tower had passed through bloody slaughter, the scar-faced man raised fire.

He asked: Are you hungry?

They said, follow me.

They were right among us, saying the grain is right there.

Right inside the city.

Enter the city.

Take the grain.

The grain holds the mighty power to split heaven and earth.

Like a flash of lightning in the black night, jolting brains long dulled by hunger and chaos back to life.

Setting bloated legs in motion again, like heading to the gruel station for a bowl of congee.

Then step by step faster, shoulder to shoulder, jostling — this offered more than the gruel station ever did.

Onto the suspension bridge, through the barbican, breaking into a run, take as much as you want.

No need to hold anything back now.

Sprint with all your strength, charge through the streets.

Even if, even if the government troops are right before your eyes.

Like a surging river crashing against a boulder, the human tide did indeed pause for a moment like churning spray.

Only the rear waves battered the front waves — the bailiffs rushing over from Dongsheng Gate were fierce in appearance but cowardly at heart.

Even they themselves did not believe the flimsy waist sabers and iron rulers in their hands could stop hundreds and thousands of starving people.

A sea of bobbing heads, stretching as far as the eye could see.

No one knew whether the first person who ran at the bailiffs was shoved forward, or charged the blades with death firmly embraced.

All they knew was the blade-tip piercing through, fresh blood dyeing people's eyes red.

One after another, figures in tattered rags, or with bellies hard and distended, or with lower limbs swollen, or with matted hair and filthy faces, burst forth in succession.

Bearing a terror of death beyond all comparison, bearing a yearning for survival beyond all parallel, bearing a resentment against heaven-sent disasters and man-made calamities boundless and unending, bearing a fury at families torn apart and scattered with nowhere to hide their shame.

They charged.

Charged straight at the blades.

In today's Yan'an Prefecture, steel could not overcome flesh and blood.

Shields could not defend, waist sabers could not pierce through, iron rulers could not stop them, chains could not hold them back.

The bailiffs were swallowed by the surging river, torn apart, ground into pulp, their livers and brains smeared across the ground.

They were like frail house dogs.

They were fierce tigers and wolves.

The grain... the grain is just ahead.